


As Above, So Below

by breeisonfire



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH, Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Stranger Things AU, a lot of creative liberty re: the source material has been taken, god bless fanfiction, not set in the 80s, this is a giant mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2019-06-05 01:49:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15159767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breeisonfire/pseuds/breeisonfire
Summary: When Alan vanishes in the middle of the night, it's up to his family to figure out what happened and find him.(A Stranger Things AU)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has become a beautiful mess of an AU and damn do I love it.

It’s definitely after Alan’s curfew when he finally gets home. He’d tried to get out of hanging out with the team after practice, but Brandon had practically strong-armed him into coming to dinner. His phone had died during practice, and the pizzeria didn’t have any outlets, so he’d tried to call Scott from Brandon’s phone. Scott, as a rule, answers numbers he doesn’t know as often as he can; he’s a police officer in a small town, practically everyone has his number. But he’d apparently been busy, so Alan had left a voicemail before heading home.

Alan’s crossing his fingers that Scott’s heard it as he hops off his bike and walks it around the house. He’s just heading towards the shed when he hears a window open and Gordon yells, “Hey, nerd! You’re home late!”

“I called Scott!” Alan yells back to him.

“Scott’s at work!”

Another window opens from the first floor, the kitchen window, and Virgil yells, “Stop yelling! We have neighbors!”

“Sorry,” Alan and Gordon say in unison. The first floor window closes with a snap, and Alan can hear Gordon snickering as he unlocks the shed door.

It’s cluttered in the shed, everyone’s stuff scattered throughout. Once spring comes along, Alan knows Scott’s going to demand everyone organize their stuff and toss some of it, but for now, Virgil’s tools are mixed with Gordon’s various sports equipment, and three of John’s old telescopes are sitting on Dad’s old workbench. Alan grins as he moves his bike out of the way from the door and leans it against the wall.

He’s about to turn and head back to the house when he hears a skittering noise behind him. Against his better judgement, he drops his bag on the floor, flicks on the light, and turns.

He doesn’t see anything, but given the mess, that’s not exactly surprising. Animals get into the shed all the time. Alan’s not supposed to deal with it anymore, not after the Skunk Incident, but he might as well get a look at whatever it is before he goes inside to get Virgil.

He carefully navigates his way around the stuff, nearly tripping over a baseball bat that looks like it’s older than Alan. He swears, and the skittering starts up again.

This time, it sounds like it’s behind him, towards the door that’s just barely cracked open. Alan turns, but still can’t see anything. He should be able to, given where the noise is coming from, but there’s nothing there.

The noise moves again circling back around to where he’d first heard it, and Alan still can’t spot anything. He backs towards the door, because whatever this is clearly does not want to be dealt with. Virgil’s much better with animals like this, and Alan’s not afraid to admit it.

Whatever it is keeps circling, coming closer and closer. Despite himself, Alan’s starting to get really nervous, his heart starting to pound. His hand reaches back to push the door open when the noise suddenly stops.

Then the light goes out.

For a moment, Alan doesn’t dare move, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t _blink_. He’s never been too fond of the dark in the first place, and something about this feels _wrong_.

Nothing happens for a long moment, and Alan allows himself a breath, moving his hand slowly to the door. He’ll get out, shut the door, and get Virgil to check it out. Maybe he’ll make Virgil wait until Scott gets back. Or maybe he’ll make Virgil call animal control. He nods to himself and starts to push the door open.

Something touches his leg.

Alan yanks it away and falls, right into his bike, knocking it over. His arm throbs painfully as he scrambles back to his feet, but before he’s there, the light comes back on. Alan opens his mouth to yell, but it dies in his throat as he looks up.

The _thing_ stares back, bright eyes that burn like fire fixated on him. Alan tries to tear his gaze away, but can’t. He feels glued to the spot, unable to move a muscle.

The light turns off again and when it comes back on, the shed’s empty.

Alan and the creature are gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These goddamn boys.

John yawns so big his jaw cracks. He’s so tired, having stayed up late studying the night before. He’s got to drop Alan and Gordon off at school, and then drive an hour to the city where his college is. He’s got a test today in his first class, which starts at 9:00am, so he needs to get a move on.

Gordon’s up and ready. He’s bright-eyed, having gone on a morning run, and honestly John finds his cheery attitude slightly offensive at this time of morning.

Alan’s not ready, and John can’t hear him moving around upstairs. Alan’s not actually the type to sleep in late, but he gets sick easily, so maybe he’s not feeling great. John sighs and heads up the stairs.

He knocks on Alan’s door. “Al, I’m coming in, you decent?”

There’s no response. Not even a groan. John raises an eyebrow and opens the door.

Alan’s bed doesn’t look slept in, but that’s nothing new. Alan sleeps on the floor a good portion of the time, for reasons no one’s quite sure of. He’s done it since he was little, and at some point they just accepted it, so there’s a fluffy, thick rug on Alan’s floor for him to settle on.

Alan’s not there. He’s not anywhere in the room. Not even under the bed or in the closet. The room’s empty.

John can’t help but get nervous as he sticks his head out the door and yells, “Gordon, what time did Alan get home last night?”

“A little after nine!” Gordon yells back. He appears at the bottom of the stairs. “Why?”

“He’s not in here,” John says. Gordon raises an eyebrow and sets his bag on the floor, coming up to stand by him.

“I saw him when he came home,” he says. “He put his bike in the shed.”

“Did you see him come inside?” John asks.

Gordon starts to nod, then frowns. He shakes his head. “No, actually, I didn’t, but I was working on an essay. I probably just missed him.”

John doesn’t like this. Gordon looks uneasy, too, but he says, “He probably just fell asleep somewhere weird again.”

John nods. It happens, and Alan’s notorious for sleepwalking, so it’s always a possibility.

He’s not in Scott’s room, where he sometimes ends up when Scott works the night shift. He’s not in Virgil’s room, where he goes if he’s having a particularly bad night. They even check John’s own room - nothing - and Gordon’s - also nothing.

The two bathrooms are empty, and Alan hates the basement, but they check it anyway. Nothing. The kitchen, living room, and study are also empty, so that just leaves one room: Dad’s room.

Alan used to sleepwalk to Dad’s room regularly when he was younger, especially right after Dad disappeared. It’s been at least a year since the last time he’d done so, but something could have stirred up memories, or maybe he was just having a bad day. They’ve been busy lately, maybe he’s just tired.

John avoids Dad’s room at all costs. It feels _wrong_ to go inside of it. It feels like trespassing. It feels like he’s breaking a rule. Even Gordon’s hesitant to go inside, and together they push the door open slowly.

It’s been three years, but they still haven’t touched Dad’s stuff. It’s dusty and dark. John always feels like the quiet in there is heavy, almost suffocating. It’s creepy, too; Dad’s favorite watch is sitting on the dresser like he’s going to walk out of his bathroom and put it on, even three years later. His old notebook is on the desk, along with his favorite pen and his reading glasses. The chair is pushed back like someone’s just stood up from it, and John can almost picture their dad turning the chair and giving them that indulgent little smile he’d always done so many times when John was younger.

There’s a reason he doesn’t come in here anymore.

Gordon’s already across the room before John blinks himself out of the trance, and glancing in the master bathroom. John pulls himself together and heads to the closet, still full of Dad’s clothes.

It’s empty, too.

“Nothing,” Gordon calls. He comes out of the bathroom looking worried. “Do you think maybe he went with Virgil?”

John shakes his head. “Virgil left at five, there’s no way Alan would have gotten up by then. And Scott would have told me if he’d given Alan a ride. Let’s retrace his steps. You said you saw him at the shed?”

Gordon nods. “He was putting his bike away.”

“Then let’s start there,” John says, leading the way out of Dad’s room. He can’t help but be relieved to be out of there.

The relief is immediately gone as they go out the back door. Even from a distance, John can see the shed door is open.

“Shit,” Gordon says, and then takes off running. John’s only two steps behind him, catching up as Gordon pauses at the door to pull it further open.

Alan’s not there, but his soccer bag is. And his bike is lying on its side. The light is on, but flickering. John feels sick as he realizes Alan’s gone. Alan’s missing. Something happened, right in their own backyard, and Alan’s _gone_.

He does the only thing he can think of. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials Scott’s number, praying he answers.

He does. “Hey, John, what’s up?”

John almost can’t speak through his panic, but he gets the words out. “It’s Alan. He’s missing.”

* * *

 

Scott's had a busy night, answering calls about people hearing weird noises outside their houses. In a town this small, with a good majority of its population older and about a quarter of them convinced that the others were trying to sabotage them, it's not too weird to get a lot of calls about things going bump in the night.

But these calls have been all across town, and every story has almost exactly the same. They heard a noise on their porch or around the side of the house, and had gone down to check it out. They'd seen a big shape, possibly human, possibly not, and once they turned on a light, it was gone.

If it had only been a few people, or even if it had been contained to one part of town, Scott probably wouldn't have found it so weird. But this was all kinds of weird.

And now Alan was missing.

John's voice was scared, even if he was trying to hide it. Scott's got to remember how to breathe for a second so he can keep John calm, too.

"What do you mean, Alan's missing?" Scott asks, and his voice is steady.

He hears John take a breath. "He wasn't up, so I went to get him out of his room, but his room is empty. The whole house is empty. Gordon says he got home at after nine and saw him putting his bike away, so we went to check the shed. His bag is here and his bike was left on the ground. Alan's not here."

Scott closes his eyes for a second. "Okay, have you tried calling his phone?"

"Gordon just found it in his bag," John says.

Shit. "You checked everywhere?"

"Everywhere," John confirms. "Dad's room, the basement, all of our rooms, under our beds, the bathrooms. He's not here, Scott."

"Okay, okay," Scott says, trying to sound soothing and probably missing by a mile. "Chances are he's just somewhere weird again, but just to be safe, call the station and report it, okay?"

"Don't we have to wait twenty-four hours?" John says.

"No, that's a myth," Scott says. "Call, okay? I'm almost off shift and chances are they wouldn't let me on the case anyway, so I'll head home in a bit."

"Okay," John says.

"Take Gordon to school, too," Scott says.

"What?" Gordon's clearly listening. "No! I’m not going to school, are you kidding me?"

Scott sighs. "Gordon -."

"No!" Gordon interrupts him. "No, Alan's missing, I wouldn't be able to concentrate anyway. I'm not going to school, I want to help."

"Gordon was the last one to see him," John points out.

Well, that'll be a fun thing to deal with later. "Fine. He can stay home."

"Thank you," Gordon says, sounding irritated.

"Watch it," Scott says, but he doesn't really mean it. Gordon's scared, and if he really was the last one to see Alan, he's probably feeling guilty. Scott can't in good conscience keep Gordon out of this, or make him go to school. For today, at least.

Hopefully today's the only day it's necessary.

* * *

 

Gordon hates literally everything about this.

He knows all of the police officers thanks to the fact that he'd spent a lot of time with at the station shortly after Dad vanished. Gordon had been almost fourteen and angry, and Scott had basically told him to get his act together and made him come with him, just to keep an eye on him. In retrospect it was a smart move, considering how shitty Gordon's attitude was.

In any case, he knows all of them and they all know him, and it's only thanks to that that Gordon doesn't actually scream like he wants to.

He's given the story twice now, and he's probably going to have to again. Scott's home, off the clock but still in uniform, since he hasn't had time to change. Virgil's been called, but he's at school, about a forty-five minute drive north of them, the opposite direction of John's school, and in the middle of a big test. He probably hasn't checked his phone, and Gordon can just picture how well _that's_ going to go.

All Gordon wants is to escape. In any other situation, he would. He's good at it, and Scott knows all of his hideouts, that was part of their deal.

But Alan's missing. And Gordon should have been paying attention.

He'd actually planned to ask Alan a question before the kid went to bed, but the essay had distracted him and by the time he remembered he was going to ask it, it was almost eleven and there was no way Alan was still up. So he'd just gone to bed.

Now he really regrets that.

As far as they know, Alan had gone missing at around 9:20pm. That's almost eleven hours now, and Gordon feels genuinely sick. They hadn't even _known_. Anything could have happened to Alan by now, and they wouldn't even know it.

It's a terrifying thought.

Gordon jumps when John's phone rings, and John looks at it before sighing.

"Virgil," he announces, and picks up the phone. Gordon doesn't envy him as he watches John talk to him. He can't hear Virgil and he's grateful for it.

Scott comes over as John's finishing up the call and gives Gordon a questioning look.

"Virgil," Gordon says.

"Oh, good," Scott nods. Gordon wonders if he knows he looks a little bit lost. It reminds Gordon so strongly of Dad's disappearance that for a moment, he can't breathe.

Dad had disappeared out of nowhere, three years ago. They didn't know what had happened. Gordon had still been a kid and even now he still doesn't know all the details, because whatever had been dug up had been kept between the older three. Gordon hated it then and still hates it now.

He's not being left out of this one. He doesn't care what he has to do about it. They're not hiding anything from him this time around. Alan is Gordon's only little brother.

He's helping whether they like it or not.

* * *

 

Virgil's not usually one to skip class, but as soon as he'd got out of his test and checked his phone, he'd made the decision to go home. John answers his phone on the first ring when he calls, and Virgil's grateful as he demands to know what's going on.

John's clearly freaking out, but he tells the whole story in a clear voice. Alan's missing. His bag is still in the shed. His bike is lying down like it got knocked over. Gordon doesn't remember seeing Alan come inside.

Virgil doesn't either. He remembers telling Gordon and Alan to be quiet, but he'd been studying all day and his eyes had been tired by that point, and shortly after that he'd just gone right to bed.

The police are at the house, John says. They're working on investigating. They don't know what's going on yet. There's not much to go on. Gordon's staying home from school and looks ready to run for it, and Scott's clearly exhausted, even if he doesn't want to show it.

Virgil's not usually one to speed either, being the little brother of a police officer, but he makes an exception in this case.

The drive home is usually forty-five minutes, depending on traffic and occasionally weather, but today Virgil makes it in twenty-eight minutes. If Scott notices, he keeps it to himself. Instead he gives Virgil a tired and clearly forced smile, and says, "You caught up?"

"I think so," Virgil says, glancing around. Gordon's sat on the deck steps, and Virgil can immediately see what John means. Gordon definitely looks like he wants to be anywhere but here, and he's antsy, like he can't sit still. John's sat on the steps next to him, frowning as he watches the officers standing outside their shed.

"Do you know anything yet?" Virgil asks.

Scott shakes his head. "No one has a damn clue. The shed was open, Alan's bag was on the ground, the bike was clearly knocked over, but the ground's too dry for footprints, and the gate doesn't open easily and it doesn't open _quietly_ , and no matter what you and Gordon say, you would have heard it. We all know what that stupid thing sounds like. None of the neighbors appear to have seen anything, though they're still asking around and it is the start of the work day."

Virgil doesn't like this. "John said it's been eleven hours. What are the odds that -."

"Don't," Scott says, shaking his head immediately. "Don't go there, Virgil, don't go that route."

But Virgil can't help it. He can't believe this is happening, not _again_ , not to them. Not to Alan. At some point the world owes them a break, right?

That break doesn’t come. The officers talk to Scott, and Virgil can’t hear what they’re saying, but he gets the gist of it from Scott’s ‘trying-to-hold-it-together’ expression and the sympathetic looks all of them are getting.

They have nothing. It’s should be surprising, but it’s not. They’ve been here before. They’ve heard this before. They know how this goes. Virgil had hoped to never relive it.

The world has to be playing some kind of sick joke for this to happen again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outta nowhere. Hallo.

Waiting has never been Gordon’s strong suit. He’s not good at sitting still, he’s not good at inaction. He wants to be _doing_ something. Waiting feels like being constantly on the edge of falling and not able to do anything about it.

They’ve been waiting all day. It’s nearly six pm, and at this point, Gordon can’t even stand to be in the same room as his brothers. He knows it’s not their fault, he _knows_ they’re just as frustrated as he is, and he knows that ultimately they don’t need to deal with him being a brat. So he’s in his room, the door wide open, lying on his bed and trying not to think about anything.

He’s still hyper-aware of everything that’s going on, so he hears when the doorbell rings and John answers it. And he can hear Penny’s voice. He can’t make out what they’re saying, but it doesn’t matter, because moments later there’s footsteps on the stairs, far too quiet to be any of his brothers.

“Oh, Gordon,” he hears, and he turns his head to see Penny, standing there. She’s lovely, as always, and he manages to sit up as she closes the door, comes over to the bed, and sinks down next to him, wrapping her arms around him. Gordon puts his head down on her shoulder and just _breathes_.

Six months after Dad had disappeared, Gordon was angry. He was angry at his dad for disappearing, at his brothers for keeping things from him, at the world for hurting them like this. He got suspended twice that year for starting fights. There would have been a third time, except before anyone could throw punches, a pretty girl with blonde hair and a razor sharp smile had handily defused the tension with a few well-placed words in a British accent. It had thrown Gordon _completely_ off his game and he’d immediately chased her down to demand _why_ she’d done that.

She had huffed, said, _“I don’t have to explain myself to you,”_ and walked away. Gordon had spent the entire night annoyed, mostly at himself, and the next morning had tracked her down before the first bell and hesitantly, but genuinely, apologized and thanked her.

She’d smiled, the first of many Gordon would learn, and told him her name was Penny. She was an exchange student from London, and had only been there for a week. Gordon had been determined then to earn her friendship. And somewhere along the way it’d grown to something more.

Now, she was his girlfriend and basically the best thing that had ever happened to Gordon. And he couldn’t be more glad she was here right now.

After a long moment, Gordon gathers himself enough to say, “Have you heard?”

“About Alan?” Penny says. “Only rumors. No one can agree what’s actually happened.”

She sounds distinctly annoyed at that, and Gordon can’t help but feel vaguely amused as he pulls away and proceeds to tell her the whole story. Penny’s an attentive listener and doesn’t interrupt him once, though she does narrow her eyes after he says that they’d found nothing.

“And now we’re just waiting,” Gordon says, and he can’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“They found _nothing_?” Penny asks.

Gordon shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s like...It’s like Dad all over again.”

Penny hadn’t been there for everything that went down with Dad, having come to America nearly six months afterwards. But it’s a small town, and even three years later, Dad’s disappearance is big news. There’s no question that Penny knows everything she could about it.

Penny squeezes his shoulder. “There can’t just be _nothing_.”

Yes, there can, and Gordon knows that very well, despite his brothers trying to keep it from him. Gordon doesn’t know _how_ exactly there can be nothing, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s true. But he doesn’t want to say that, so he just shrugs.

Penny doesn’t seem to accept that. She squeezes his shoulder again and says, “Right. Well, tomorrow I’ll have Parker look into it.”

Parker is Penny’s chauffeur, bodyguard, and guardian, because her dad is apparently very rich and she’s the kind of person who needs such a thing. Parker is also an ex-criminal, though that fact is kept very quiet. Gordon doesn’t know the specifics of what he’d gotten up to when he was younger, but he knows that Parker is a sneaky bastard and if there is anything, Parker can probably find it.

He refuses to get his hopes up. They’ll just end up being crushed. But he nods his permission, not that Penny actually needed or wanted it. She smiles anyway, and kisses him on the cheek.

“Are you going to school tomorrow?” she asks.

Gordon shrugs. “Scott probably wants me to.”

“And you don’t want to,” it’s not a question.

“I want to be here,” Gordon says. “I want to _know_ this time. I want to know what’s going on. I don’t want to be left out.”

Penny reaches out and gently uncurls his fingers from where they’re clenched in a fist. He can feel the ache in his hand and knows he should care, but he doesn’t. He’s frustrated and scared and he _hates_ it.

“Gordon,” Penny whispers. “They’re not going to leave you out. I won’t let them.”

Gordon chokes on a laugh. He can just _see_ her, marching up to Scott and demanding that he tell them everything. It’d work, too. His brothers adore Penny. If they ever broke up, he’s about ninety percent sure they’d adopt Penny and disown him. He’s not entirely sure he’d blame them.

“Okay,” he agrees.

“Good,” Penny says. “Leave it to me, I’ll handle it.”

“Okay.”

* * *

 

Scott is not a morning person. He’s emphatically _not_ an morning person. Especially not when the morning comes after sitting up all night, waiting for any news about his missing baby brother. And especially not when said night comes after having spent the night before on shift.

The point is Scott’s tired, and everyone around him knows it.

He’s at work, but not on shift. He’s sitting around, trying to snoop on the entire thing, and everyone is pretending to ignore him, in the name of plausible deniability.

Everyone, that is, except Chief Casey.

“What are you doing here, Tracy?” she says as she hands him a coffee.

“Hoping to hear something,” Scott admits without shame. Chief Casey’s an old friend of Dad’s, and the whole reason Scott had become a police officer. She knows that, and he knows without a doubt that she already knows what he’s doing here. There’s no point in denying it.

“Go home, Scott,” she says. “There’s nothing you can do here. You’re on leave for the next week at least, go home.”

“But -.”

“Scott,” she says, gently but firmly. “Your brothers need you. You know as well as I do that this could turn out like what happened three years ago.”

Scott flinches. He’s been thinking it since he’d first gotten home, but to hear it so bluntly said still hits him hard.

“I know,” he says. And he does know. He knows that if this does go the same way, there’s every chance that his family will shatter, and Scott doesn’t know if they’ll be able to come back from that. They came close last time, but they’d managed to pull it together, mostly due to Alan. He’d been the one to point out, in the way only an eleven-year-old could, that Dad wouldn’t want them arguing like this. And that had been the point where the ice broke. It had let them start to heal.

“Go home,” Chief says again. “Take care of your brothers.Help them keep their heads on straight. We’ll let you know if we find anything.”

Scott looks up at her, and for a moment, feels a bubble of frustration rise in him. He’s so, so tired. He’s tired of being the oldest, tired of being the one that’s supposed to always keep it together. He wants, just for a little while, someone else to take up the mantle and give him a goddamn _break_.

Scott had been only twenty-three when his dad had gone missing. He’d had an Associate’s in Criminal Justice and had been a police officer for a little over two years, he’d lived on his own in an apartment and was saving up for a new car. He’d been a normal young adult.

But John had been about to turn eighteen, Virgil ten months behind him. Gordon had been almost fourteen and Alan just eleven. They’d needed an adult, a guardian. And Scott had come back home without a second thought.

He’s been lucky in that his dad had saved up the life insurance money he’d gotten from their mom’s passing, and that their house has been in their family’s name for the past four generations and was essentially paid off. He was given legal guardianship of his brothers without having to fight for it, and thankfully he’d known how to pay bills and do taxes. But the past three years have been _hard_. And Scott just wants to give up, just for a bit. He wants this to be someone else’s problem.

But it’s not, and Scott knows it’s not fair to wish that. So he stands up and grabs his jacket before walking towards the door.

Chief stops him as he goes to pass her, looking him in the eye. “If you boys need anything, let me know. I mean it, Scott Tracy.”

“I know, ma’am,” Scott says. She studies him for a second before nodding and letting him pass.

John and Virgil are at home when he gets there. Gordon had gone to school without much of a fight for once, but Scott knows better than to think that will last. He’s not even sure Gordon will end up at school for the entire day. John and Virgil should be at school, too, but given how far away their schools are, he doesn’t blame them for not wanting to make the drive. And he’s glad for the company.

Neither of them look like they’ve slept. Scott’s going to have to do something about that at some point. Possibly he should get some sleep, too. Leading by example, and all that.

They both get to their feet when he walks in and he immediately shakes his head.

“No news,” he says. “Chief kicked me out.”

“Told you she would,” John mutters to Virgil, who rolls his eyes. Scott doesn’t bother to ask, putting his jacket up on the hook. Alan’s isn’t there, which on one hand is good, because it means wherever Alan is, he has his jacket.

On the other, Scott just wants him _home_.

“I’m going to lie down,” he says abruptly. He’s way too close to breaking down right now and he can’t let his brothers see that when they’re both clearly so close as well. He doesn’t wait for them to respond before heading up the stairs to his room and closing the door.

He leans against it for a second, everything suddenly crashing down on him. It takes almost all the energy he’s got left to make it to his bed before he collapses, landing on his side. He grabs his pillow and shoves his face in it, hoping to muffle the sounds he can feel making their way to the surface as he finally lets go.


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey, Tracy.”

Gordon grits his teeth before turning around. It’s been a long day of people coming up to him and at this point he’s ready to revert to his old ways and just start throwing punches. He does _not_ want to be dealing with anyone today.

To his surprise, it’s Brandon, from Alan’s soccer team. The senior had taken Alan under his wing at the beginning of the year and Alan had come home from his first practice with the team with heart eyes and told them all about how the older kid had helped him with drills. It had been ridiculous.

Brandon looks tired and nervous. “I heard about Al. I just...I shouldn’t have made him come out with the team.”

It takes Gordon a long second to understand just what Brandon’s talking about. “Oh. Oh, no, Berrenger, it’s not your fault. He made it home.”

Brandon’s eyes widen. “He did?”

Gordon takes a deep breath and tries to remember that most of the town has only heard rumors, and that it’s not Brandon’s fault he’s had to deal with idiots all day. “Yeah. I saw him when he got home. He disappeared after that.”

He hates how every time he says it, it feels like a blow to the stomach. Hates how even at school, he feels Alan’s absence. Alan’s a freshman, so often times Gordon would see him while going from class to class, and they had the same lunch period, so Gordon keeps expecting to see him, even just briefly. But Alan’s not there, and Gordon’s not going to see him, and it actually _hurts_ every time.

Brandon looks like he doesn’t know what to say. Gordon shakes his head and says, “I appreciate it anyway.”

“Right,” Brandon says. “Let me know if the kid shows up, okay?”

“Will do,” Gordon says, and turns back to his locker. He stares at his books as he listens to Brandon walk off and wonders if Scott would be pissed if he skipped the rest of the day. There’s only two periods left, and Gordon’s been doing his best but it’s getting to be too much. He can’t take the looks anymore, and he’s about ready to snap.

Before he can decide either way, a hand touches his shoulder and he jumps, but when he turns to look, it’s just Penny. She looks concerned, but still offers him a smile.

“Rough day?” she says knowingly.

“You could say that,” Gordon says. He makes up his mind, shoving his books back in his locker and pulling out his jacket. “I’m gonna go, I can’t be here anymore.”

“I’ll come with,” Penny says. “I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

Gordon blinks at her, and then remembers her promise from the night before. “Did Parker find something?”

“More questions than answers,” Penny says.

Gordon slams his locker shut and lets her pull him down the hallway. It’s easy to slip out the side door of the school; it’s practically a rite of passage, and Gordon’s convinced the staff just looks the other way. God knows he’s snuck out enough to have been caught at least once by now.

Parker’s actually waiting in the parking lot for them, standing next to the Rolls Royce. Gordon always feels out of place when he gets in it, especially when Parker opens the door for him, but he’s learned to get over it. Today, it just feels nice to be away from the whispers and looks of pity.

“Where to, m’lady?” Parker asks as he settles in the driver’s seat.

“Just home, Parker,” Penny says. “You can catch us up when we get there.”

_Home_ for Penny is the nicest house in the entire town, complete with a gated driveway and a fountain in the garden. The weather’s getting cold, so the fountain’s not on, but it’s still an impressive sight. Gordon loves it.

He doesn’t give Parker the chance to walk around and open the door for them, just opens it himself and holds his hand out to help Penny out. Parker looks mildly annoyed by this, but then he almost always looks that way when it come to Gordon, so he doesn’t take it personally anymore. Secretly, he thinks the old man likes him.

“Tea, m’lady?” Parker asks as they enter the house.

“Yes, please,” Penny says. “Gordon?”

Gordon nods as he takes his jacket off and hangs it up. He follows Penny and Parker towards the kitchen and tries not to feel impatient as Parker makes tea and then serves them. And then he sits down, as well.

“So,” Gordon says. “What’s this about?”

“How much do you know about your father’s work?” Penny asks.

Gordon blinks. “Uh, well, he worked at the lab, just outside town. He worked there for as long as I can remember.”

“Do you know what the lab does?” Penny presses.

“No,” Gordon says. “He always said it was important and top-secret. I don’t think Scott even knows.”

“H’interesting,” Parker says. Gordon narrows his eyes.

“Why?” he says slowly.

Parker studies him for a second and says, “I did some digging this morning. It seems your father was h‘involved in dangerous things.”

“What do you mean?” Gordon asks, leaning forward. This can’t be good.

“It’s been kept hush-hush,” Penny says. Gordon doesn’t bother to ask how she already knows this. “It looks like the lab was trying to cover their tracks.”

Parker puts a folder down on the table and slides it towards Gordon. He doesn’t say a word, just raises an eyebrow when Gordon looks up at him.

It’s just a manila folder, about an inch thick. The label says, “Tracy, Jeff,” and has the stereotypical red ‘confidential’ stamp across it. Gordon feels a weird sense of impending doom as he stares at it. It’s almost taunting him.

He takes a deep breath and pulls the folder towards himself. He hesitates. There’s no going back if he reads this folder. One way or another, he’s about to learn something, and he knows from the way Penny and Parker are acting that it can’t be good.

But it means real answers about his dad, and maybe some clues to finding Alan.

He opens the folder.

* * *

 

The longer they go without hearing anything, the bigger the knot in John's stomach feels.

He knows the statistics. He'd done his research when Dad had gone missing, and their track record doesn't exactly inspire hope. But he can't help waiting for the phone to ring, for someone to know something.

He blames that feeling of suspense for his nightmares.

John’s not usually the type to have nightmares. Most of the time, if he’s having problems sleeping, it’s insomnia. The only time he really has nightmares is when he’s sick.

Still, this one is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before, and the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s dreaming doesn’t change that fact.

He’s in their house, in his room, but everything’s _wrong_. It’s backwards, or maybe upside down, he can’t tell, but it’s all wrong. Everything’s covered in black vines, and something’s falling from the sky. Something like ash. What little light there is has a red tint.

John takes a step forward, forcing himself to breathe. The air is heavy and it feels like he’s moving through molasses, but he feels like he needs to keep moving. Something’s here, something he needs to see.

He walks slowly down the stairs, avoiding the squeaky fourth stair out of habit. He makes it down all the way and pauses, feeling like he’s being watched. There’s nothing there, no matter how hard he looks, but he still feels uneasy.

He continues on to the living room and stops, looking around carefully. This is it, this is where he needs to be, but he doesn’t know why. Something’s here he’s looking for, but he can’t see what.

He jumps as something touches his arm and twists around, pulling his arm away. He freezes.

It’s Alan.

Wide-eyed, terrified, and confused, but in one piece. He’s staring at John like he can’t be real.

“Alan?” John whispers.

“No, you can’t be here,” Alan says, his expression going wild. He looks at the sky and yells, “No! No, he can’t be here, let him _go_!”

John blinks. “Alan, what are you -.”

“Go,” Alan says. “John, _you have to go,_ you have to go _now_.”

“What - I’m not leaving you!” John says. He’s pretty sure he’s still asleep, but this feels so _intensely_ real. He reaches out and grabs Alan’s arm. The way Alan feels warm and alive, the way his blond hair is dirty and his blue eyes tinted purple by the red light. He’s wearing his jacket and the t-shirt he’d been wearing the last time John had seen him. This has to be real, it can’t just be a dream.

Alan shakes his head. “John -.”

“This is _real_ ,” John realizes. “This is real, where are we, what’s going on?”

“I don’t have time to tell you, you need to _go_ , it can’t take both of us,” Alan says, pulling John towards the stairs. “It _can’t_ , please.”

“Alan, what are you talking about?” John demands. This is real, the way the world around him feels like death, the way Alan’s desperately taking him up the stairs. This is _real_.

“John, please,” Alan says. He’s quite a bit smaller than John, but apparently determined, because he’s making headway at pulling John up the stairs, despite John’s reluctance to go.

“Is this where you’ve been?” John asks.

“Yes, but you can’t be here,” Alan says, and pulls harder. John finally gives in and starts following Alan, who leads him right to John’s room and closes the door behind them.

“Why?” John asks. “Where are we?”

“The Upside-Down,” Alan says.

John blinks. “The what?”

Alan looks anxiously around them. “It’s like - it’s like a reflection of our world, I think. I don’t know, it’s - we don’t have _time_ for this. You have to go back.”

“I don’t even know how I got here!” John says. “How did _you_ get here?”

“It took me,” Alan says. “And I think it’s trying to take you. I can distract it, you can get back through, but only if we hurry.”

“I’m not leaving you!” John says again. “You can’t expect me to do that, Alan, I _won’t_.”

“John, listen to me,” Alan says, and he sounds so much older than fourteen for a moment. John just stares at him, caught off guard, and Alan takes that as permission to continue. “You have to go back. If you don’t, we’re both stuck here. But if you go through, if you’re out there, working on that side, you might be able to figure out a way to get me out. But _only if you’re out there_.”

John feels frustrated. “Why can’t you come with me?”

“I didn’t get in that way, it’s not meant for me,” Alan says. “ _Please_ , go.”

“Allie,” John says, and grabs him in a hug. Alan feels real and alive, and he hugs John back just as desperately. And then he pulls back.

“I -,” he starts to say, but he’s cut off by a howl sounding from a distance. Alan looks behind him, towards the window, then back at John.

“It knows you’re here,” he whispers. “Go.”

He pushes John a step back, turning as he does so. John opens his mouth to say something, _anything_.

And sits bolt upright in his bed.


	5. Chapter 5

On the rare mornings everyone’s home, it’s usually chaos in the kitchen. With five of them as busy as they are, they generally fend for themselves, and get out the door to wherever they’re going.

Virgil feels like he’s in a different household completely when he makes his way into the kitchen that morning. It’s Saturday, so no one has school, and Scott’s on leave, but he would have had today off anyway. They were all supposed to be home today, because Alan was supposed to have a soccer game, and they were all planning to go.

Virgil’s expecting Scott and Gordon to still be in bed when he gets up, but he’s not really surprised when he finds them with John in the kitchen. Scott’s got his head propped up on his hand and has a coffee mug in the other. Gordon looks like he didn’t get any sleep and is staring off into space.

John looks like he’s had about five cups of coffee and is staring at his laptop, reading intently. He doesn’t even seem to notice any of them are there. Virgil looks around at Scott, who doesn’t seem to be fully awake, and Gordon, who doesn’t look like he’s even on this plane of existence, and sighs.

“So,” he says, and Gordon starts so hard he loses his balance. Virgil catches him before he can fall and tries very hard not to roll his eyes at him. Scott doesn’t even bother to fully turn his head, and John’s only acknowledgement is an absent sort of nod.

“I’m going to run to the grocery store,” he says. “Anyone wanna come with?”

Gordon just puts his head down on the table. Scott takes a sip of coffee and says, “I’m going to run by the station and see if they’ve found anything.”

“John?” Virgil says, though he’s not really expecting anything.

“Hm?” John says, not looking up. Virgil rolls his eyes.

“Right,” he says. “Any requests?”

“Coffee,” Scott and Gordon say in unison.

“John drank all of it,” Scott adds. He holds up his mug. “This is all that’s left.”

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “That can’t be healthy.”

“It’s not, but you try and tell him that,” Scott says. Virgil glances at John, still absorbed in whatever he’s reading, and concedes the point.

“Okay,” Virgil says. “Any other plans for the day?”

“Don’t do that,” Gordon says, lifting his head.

Virgil blinks. “Do what?”

“Act like everything’s _normal_ ,” Gordon says. “It’s not, and we all know it’s not, and don’t _act_ like it is.”

“Gordon -,” Virgil says, but Gordon shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “You all did that when it was Dad, acted like it was normal and nothing was wrong, like he was just on a business trip or something. You left me and Alan out of _all_ of it and just said they’d find him, but they didn’t and they _won’t_ , because he’s dead, and _fuck you_.”

“Gordon,” Scott says sharply, and Virgil knows instantly it’s a mistake. Gordon’s angry and looking for a fight. He turns his angry glare at Scott.

“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t act like I’m being unreasonable, don’t act like I’m not right! He’s dead, and Alan probably is, too, and don’t fucking _treat me like a child_.”

“Don’t say that,” Scott says. He’s angry now, too, or maybe he already was. Virgil can’t really tell. John’s looking up now, staring in confusion. He meets Virgil’s eyes, a question on his face, but all Virgil can do is shrug. He doesn’t have a clue where this came from.

“I’m saying what we’re all thinking,” Gordon says. “What none of us are _saying_.”

“Don’t put words in our mouths,” Scott’s tone is icy. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“Because you won’t tell me!” Gordon jumps to his feet. “You _do this_ , every time! You leave me out of it everything! I still don’t know what you guys know about Dad! I know there’s things you’re leaving out, I know the rumors, but I don’t know any of the truth! Because all you do is treat me like a kid!”

“Because you’re acting like one,” Scott says, and _oh_ , Gordon’s face goes white with fury. For a second, Virgil’s convinced he’s going to actually lose it, and he’s not really sure where this is going to go. He’s preparing to get between them if he has to when Gordon suddenly turns away.

“Whatever,” he mutters, and leaves the kitchen. Virgil lets out a long breath.

“Well, that was a shitshow,” John says. Scott glares at him, but John’s already back to his laptop. He doesn’t look back up.

The front door slams closed and Virgil winces. Scott closes his eyes, like he’s counting to ten, then stands up.

“I’m going to the station,” he says, and leaves. He doesn’t slam the door like Gordon did, but he’s not exactly gentle, either.

“That could have gone better,” Virgil sighs. He’s not expecting a response, but John snorts.

“You think?” he says. He finishes his current mug of coffee, then stands up. He blinks at the empty coffeepot.

“Are we out of coffee?” he says.

Virgil just rolls his eyes.

* * *

John’s been searching since he woke earlier, feeling freezing and with the scent of death clinging to his nostrils. He knows it wasn’t just a dream. He doesn’t know how exactly he knows it, but he _does_. That was real, and Alan’s stuck in another dimension, one that’s like a reflection of their world. _The Upside-Down_ , Alan had called it.

John can’t find anything about the Upside-Down. He finds plenty of theoretical papers on the subject of alternate dimension and mirror worlds, and a ton of fantasy stories, but nothing concrete. Nothing _real_.

He knows it’s real. He knows it’s not just a dream. He’d _touched_ Alan, seen him alive and real. That place, that _thing_ , had taken Alan and tried to take John, too. Whatever it was, it wants them.

And it has Alan.

John knows his hair is a mess from the way he keeps running his hands through it, but he can’t help it. He’s been up since four am and had about ten cups of coffee since. He’s been desperately scouring the internet for _anything_ , and Scott and Gordon’s fight has thrown him off completely.

Gordon, of course, storms out. Scott leaves not long after him, and then Virgil, too. John’s left alone in the empty house. Normally he likes being alone, but suddenly it feels like too much.

He turns to his computer and goes to close the lid, but before he can, the screen lights up. John freezes and stares at it.

On it, in white letters across a black screen, is the word, “Homebound.”

For a second, John can’t breathe. _Homebound_ was a project he’d been working on with Alan. It’s a text-based role playing game. Alan had come to him one day, out of the blue, asking if he knew how to make one, because he had a great idea for one. John had said sure, and they’d started working that night.

Alan hadn’t been kidding. He was prepared for this. He had the plot outlined in a neat little document that he’d shared with John. There were several different paths, and two main endings. It was honestly impressive, how much thought Alan had put into it, and John had been honored to help him realize it.

It’s still partially unfinished. John’s been busy with classes and Alan with soccer, so they’ve been having trouble matching up their schedules. They’d planned on working on it on Sunday. John had actually be looking forward to it.

The fact that it’s now open, on his computer, despite him not touching it, immediately sends up red flags in John’s mind. This isn’t a coincidence. It can’t be, not after the not-dream he’d had, not after Alan specifically telling him they could work together to get him out of that place.

“Alan?” he whispers.

There’s no response. John reaches for his computer and hits start on the menu.

Instantly, he knows he’s on the right track. The original opening of the game has the player stood in a clearing in a forest, where they’ve just finished camping for the night. John remembers Alan specifically saying he wanted to start the game in the middle of the journey, instead of the beginning, because ‘starting one took too long.’ Alan had wanted to start in the middle of the action.

So it’s supposed to start at a campsite, with four choices: north, south, east, or west. From there, the player advances through the forest, finding items and meeting people, and it ends either with the character finding their way home, or beginning a new adventure.

It does not, and has never, started in their _living room_. John leans forward to read the text.

>   **You are standing in the living room. There is a boy standing in front of you.  
> ** **> Talk to the boy**

That’s all it says. John stares at it for a moment, then slowly reaches out and clicks the only option. He holds his breath as he waits for text to load.

>   **“John, it’s Alan, are you okay?”  
> ** **> Yes** **  
> ** **> No**

John sighs in relief and clicks ‘yes.’ Typical Alan, asking how he’s doing when he’s not the one stuck in another dimension.

>   **“Good. I don’t know how much time I have. Do you remember what happened last night?”  
> ** **> Yes  
> ** **> No**
> 
> **_You chose > Yes_ **
> 
> **“Okay. You made it back in one piece. Good. I’m sorry I couldn’t follow you back the way you went. I don’t know how the portals work exactly, but it wouldn’t have held open for both of us.”**

“What does that mean, Alan?” John mutters.

>   **“It means the portals require energy.”**

John blinks. “Wait, Alan, can you hear me?”

>   **“Yes. Barely, but yes. It’s like an echo.”**

“Jesus, Alan,” John says, running his hand through his hair again. “Tell me about these portals.”

>   **“I don’t know much about them. I know that they open every now and again, and that there’s a big one somewhere, but I can’t find where.”**

“That’s not really all that helpful,” John sighs. “Give me something to go on.”

>   **“I’m trying. Last night, when you left, I could feel the opening. I wouldn’t have fit through it, not then, but if we can somehow open another one, I might get through.”**

“And how do we do that?”

“How do we do what?”

Virgil’s voice scares John so bad he falls out of his chair. Virgil raises an eyebrow as he looks down at John, holding grocery bags in his arms. He places them down on the counter.

“You okay?” he asks, reaching down to help John up.

“Peachy,” John grumbles. He pauses for a moment, wondering if he should tell Virgil about what’s going on.

Alan takes the decision from him, as text loads.

>   **“Virgil?”**

_Oh, boy. This is gonna be a fun conversation_.

“Hey,” John says. “Uh, you’re gonna think this is crazy.”

“Oh, God,” Virgil groans. “Can I put the frozen food away first?”

“Hurry?” John says.

“Explain while I work,” Virgil says. John picks up his laptop and follows him into the kitchen.

“Right,” this is going to go so badly. “Well, uh, last night I had a dream. Only it wasn’t a dream. It was _real_. I was in the house, except, it wasn’t right. It was like a reflection of our house. Everything was wrong, and it was freezing cold. And there was a red light to everything.”

Virgil looks skeptical, but doesn’t say anything as he pulls out a pint of ice cream. Mint chocolate chip, Alan’s favorite kind. John pretends not to notice.

“This is where it’s going to be hard to believe,” he says. “Alan was there.”

Virgil freezes and instantly John knows he’s lost him. “John -.”

“No, come here,” John says, gesturing him over. “ _Look_. You’ve played _Homebound_ before, you know how it goes. Explain this.”

Virgil leans over John’s computer and reads through it. As he does so, a new line of text loads.

>   **“It’s true, Virg.”**

For a moment, John’s certain Virgil doesn’t believe him. And he doesn’t really blame him. This is a ridiculous, _crazy_ story, and if John hadn’t seen it happen himself, he might have had a hard time believing, too.

Finally, Virgil lets out a long breath. “This - this is real time?”

“Yeah,” John says, unsure how to take that. “Yeah, ask a question, he’ll answer.”

“Alan?” Virgil says, then makes a face. “This feels stupid.”

> **“Looks stupid, too.”**

John has to laugh. Virgil shakes his head, looking hesitant, and says, “If you’re really Alan, what did he want my help with the other day?”

>   **“Pranking Gordon by putting mayo in all of his socks.”**

“That’s disgusting,” John says.

“That’s what I said,” Virgil agrees, his eyes wide. He looks at John. “Explain from the top.”

John does. They move back into the living room, both of them settling on the couch, the computer on the coffee table.

Virgil doesn't interrupt him, listening carefully as he tells the whole story. It's hard to believe and John knows it, but Virgil doesn't dismiss him. At the end of the story, he leans forward and says, "So you're saying Alan's in another dimension, and talking to us through this game right now?"

John nods. "Basically."

Virgil doesn't say anything for a while, looking thoughtful. As he does so, words pop up on the screen.

>   **Do you believe?  
> ** **> Yes** **  
> ** **> No**

It takes Virgil a long moment, but finally reaches forward and clicks yes.

Relief floods through John. "You believe me?"

"Mostly," Virgil says. "At the very least, it's an actual solution. No one's given us _anything_ to go off of."

He pauses and makes a face. "Plus no one else knew about the mayo in the socks thing. God, Alan, that's so nasty."

John turns back to the screen, expecting something, but nothing pops up. As he waits, he realizes something in the air feels different. Something feels... _wrong._

"Alan?" he says slowly. "Is something going on?"

Virgil's quiet next to him. When John glances at him, he can tell that Virgil feels whatever's in the air, too. He's tense and his face when he meets John's gaze is serious.

"What is that?" he says quietly.

Before John can answer, words appear on the screen.

> **You notice a crack in the wall.**

As if on cue, there's a loud cracking sound, and John instinctively throws his hands over his face. When he moves them, he sees a large crack in the wall across from them, as if something had hit it from inside the wall. There's a red light coming from it, and there's a sheet of _something_ covering it.

"Holy shit," Virgil whispers.

"Alan?" John says. "What's going on?"

Three letters appear on the screen.

>   **Run.**

Seconds later, the game crashes, and John's computer makes a loud beeping sound and blue screens. At the same time, there's a loud noise from the crack, like a growl. There's an ice cold wind coming from it, and the smell of death fills the room.

John doesn't move. He barely breathes. The growl continues, growing closer, and next to him, Virgil moves, just a tiny bit, towards where his phone is sitting on the coffee table.

There's a loud sniff, and John stares at the crack as a bright red eye appears in it. It stares at them, and John wants to move or scream or something, but he can't.

The _thing_ sniffs again, and then moves back, throwing its head back and _howling_.

John throws his hands over his ears, but it does little to block it out. The howl seems to echo, bouncing around the room and inside John's _head_ , and he squeezes his eyes closed, trying to block it out.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, it stops. John doesn't dare move for a moment, his ears still ringing and his head pounding. When he does open his eyes, he nearly falls over in shock.

There, on the other side of the crack, is _Alan_.

He's not facing them. The crack is somehow bigger than before, and John can see enough to recognize Alan's jacket and the back of his head. He grabs at Virgil's arm and pulls them both closer.

"Alan!" he yells, though his voice is strangely muffled.

Alan jumps in shock, and turns halfway around. He turns his head to lock eyes with John, and his eyes are wide.

"Go!" he yells, or at least John thinks he does. His voice is muffled, too. "Run!"

"Alan!" Virgil reaches forward, but John grabs his arm. He doesn't know what will happen if Virgil crosses that line, but it won't be good. He knows Alan won't fit through. They won't get him back right now.

Alan looks at him, and John's resolve nearly breaks right there, because his baby brother is terrified and trying not to be. It's heartbreaking and John can't do it, he can't leave Alan alone there.

He lets go of Virgil's arm, but there's a growl on the other side. Alan turns away again, and John desperately lunges forward, but there's a bright flash of light and John has to shield his eyes.

When he can look again, the other world is gone. The crack in the wall is still there, but there's nothing on the other side of it. Alan's gone.

"No!" Virgil yells. John moves forward to look through the crack, but a voice behind them has them both spinning around in shock.

"What the _hell_ was that?"

Scott's standing in the doorway, face pale and eyes wide. His hand is on his hip, like he was reaching for his gun, even though he's not wearing his holster. He's clearly freaked out, but John can't even find it in himself to care, because _Alan's gone_ and trapped _with that monster_.

He’s out of reach,  _again_ , and John feels sick. He’s been so close, twice, and it keeps taking him away. He’s got to figure out a way to get him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Preludeinz for helping me figure out the text rpg angle. God bless.
> 
> My [tumblr](https://drdone.tumblr.com) please pray for me as I finish this semester.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The alternate title to this fic is "I Use Too Many Goddamn Italics."

The crack looks like a regular crack now, except for the part that it came from _inside the wall_. Scott’s trying really hard not to freak out about this, but he knows what he saw, and what he saw can’t have been possible.

Except John and Virgil saw it, too. John’s sat on the couch now, his head in his hands as he tries not to hyperventilate, and Virgil’s shaking. Scott can’t exactly blame either of them. He’d heard the howl from down the street, from inside his car, and he’d nearly had a heart attack when he’d realized it’d come from _his house_. He’s pretty sure he left the car running, and hopefully none of his neighbors call the police, because he doesn’t know how the hell he’d explain this to his colleagues.

“Are you guys okay?” he asks, unsure what to say. No one’s answered his question as to what was going on, but he’s pretty sure one of them is about to throw up, and it’s a toss up as to which of the three of them it’ll be. The horrible smell still fills the living room, and it somehow feels like it’s getting worse.

“Just dandy,” John’s not usually one for hysteria, but he seems to be getting close right now. “Just, you know, your regular old portal to another world - why the _hell_ would we be okay?”

“Okay, okay,” Scott says, putting his hands up. He’s starting to regain his footing, relying on the side of him that’s been a cop for the past five years. “Tell me what happened. All of it.”

One thing all of his brothers have in common is that once they have a goal, they’re determined, and Scott’s glad to see it’s still true. John and Virgil seem to pull themselves together as they take turns explaining everything, from John’s dream to the game to what Scott had walked in on.

And to be honest, Scott doesn’t know what to think.

The crack in the wall, the unearthly howl, the smell that lingers, what he’d _seen_ \- it all supports their story. Scott’s all about evidence, being a cop, but he also relies on his instincts, and they’re telling him that John and Virgil are telling the truth, that what he’d seen was real. And that’s terrifying.

“So, whatever that thing was,” he says slowly. “Alan’s - he’s _with_ that thing?”

He’s stuck on that. Alan stuck in another dimension - that’s one thing. But Alan stuck in another dimension with some sort of wolf-dragon hybrid is an entirely another. Alan’s just a fourteen-year-old kid. He doesn’t stand a chance against that thing.

This is all _so goddamn bizarre_. Scott can’t believe he’s even thinking about believing this. He can’t believe that he _actually_ believes this. This is way, _way_ above his head, this is ridiculous and absurd and ludicrous and any other synonym he can think of for _goddamn crazy_.

“That’s about the size of it,” Virgil says, still pale.

“Well,” Scott says. “ _Shit_.”

* * *

 Gordon’s still fuming as he runs. He’s gone to the track by the school, hoping to burn off the anger that’s still filling him, but it’s not working. He’s got his earbuds in, but he’s not actually listening to anything, just trying to block out the world.

He’s angry. He wants to stay angry, because the other option is being afraid, and he doesn’t want that.

He’d stayed up all night, reading through the file Penny and Parker had given him. He’d never known what Dad’s work was; he’d always said it was confidential, and then he’d wink. Gordon had thought it was so cool, that his dad was working on secret experiments. He’d _never_ expected it to be something like this.

Alternate dimensions. Gordon’s not a scientist, so a lot of the theory is way above him, but he understands enough to know that’s what his dad was working on. Alternate dimensions. Which is pretty cool, except Gordon can see where it went from just scientific curiosity to almost near obsession. From what he can remember, Dad had always worked long hours, and sometimes was distracted when he came home. He’d had this little notebook that he’d carried around constantly, and sometimes he’d stop mid-conversation and scribble something down. Always thinking, he’d said.

And it hadn’t just been him obsessed with it. His team, his superiors, a good portion of the people involved had been. And that’s where it starts to get really sketchy.

About halfway through the file, he’d found a packet, outlining a project called Project Pathway. It’d been based on another experiment from another team working in the same building, but on _children_.

Special children, kids with abilities like telekinesis and telepathy and other things that don’t sound real. There’s pages about how they’d picked out kids with certain genes, passed down from generation to generation, and the whole thing makes Gordon want to be _sick_.

To his credit, there’s a few pages where his dad had clearly started having second thoughts and voicing them to others, primarily when they started using a few of the kids’ abilities to open rifts. That was the major goal of Project Pathway. The kids aren’t named, just referred to as numbers, one through twelve, and Gordon’s somewhat grateful that he doesn’t have what had happened to those kids, because he doesn’t want to imagine.

What he can find that happened was that they’d succeeded, once, in opening a pathway to the other dimension. And what they’d found was nothing they’d expected. They’d let something through, and that something had gone on a rampage and killed three people before they’d managed to subdue it and send it back.

One of those three had been Jeff Tracy. Dad.

His dad is dead.

They’d covered it all up. There’s one final page at the end that just lists the cover-up story, lists Gordon and his brothers, and there’s a note at the bottom that says to keep them under surveillance, in case any of them ‘show abilities.’

And now Alan’s missing.

They’re capable of making him disappear. They could have seen something or thought he’d done something, and taken him. Gordon can tell they would have done it, without thinking twice, and he’s angry. At this lab, for working on this thing, and at his dad, for being involved. The idea of his dad standing by while kids Gordon’s age and younger had been used in experiments is horrifying, and Gordon can’t even comprehend it. It’s turned his entire worldview on its head.

And his dad’s _dead_. Confirmed deceased, in red capital letters. He’d died three years ago, in the lab, and they’d had the audacity to _lie_ about it. The story had been that he’d left and pulled over for some reason, and vanished from there. They’d moved his car to the highway, left it running, and they’d done it all to cover their own asses.

It’s all kinds of fucked up, and Gordon doesn’t know how to deal with any of it, so he’s just fucking angry.

He wants to be angry at his brothers, too, but he’d seen their looks earlier when he’d started the fight. Scott, exhausted and scared, even if he didn’t want to show it. Virgil, surprised and yet resigned, ready to step in if Gordon had even thought about being violent, which he _hadn’t_. John, confused and yet with a distant look in his eyes, like he’d found a problem he was trying to solve and couldn’t get there. And he’d realized that they didn’t know.

They didn’t know about Dad’s work, and they didn’t know that he was dead. They didn’t know any of it. If he stops and thinks about it, it makes sense, because there’s no way any of them would have been okay with the kinds of things listed in the file, but Gordon hadn’t really thought it through. He’d wanted some kind of outlet for his anger.

They didn’t deserve it, but Gordon knows he can’t be home right now. He can’t sit there, in that house, where he remembers Dad, sitting at the table or in the study with his reading glasses, writing in that stupid notebook, still sitting on his desk. He can’t.

His lungs are burning and his legs are shaky before he finally allows himself to stop. He’s probably overdone it and he’ll regret that later, he knows it, but for the moment he doesn’t care. He really just doesn’t care.

He’s about to leave the track, to go where he doesn’t know, when he notices the figure in pink on the benches.

Penny waves. She lifts a travel mug and gestures him over. Gordon’s suddenly a bit self-conscious, because he’s a sweaty mess, but Penny doesn’t seem concerned, so he walks towards her.

“How’d you know I was here?” he asks as he sits down next to her.

“Darling, you’re very predictable,” Penny says. “When you’re angry, you exercise. It was here or the school gym, and I happen to know that the wrestling team is currently using that. Here,” she passes him the travel mug. “Drink. It’s tea.”

“That’s a surprise,” Gordon deadpans, but he takes a drink anyway. It’s warm, a nice contrast to the cold air that’s stinging his sweaty face. His heartbeat is starting to slow, and he’s starting to feel drained.

“I take it the file wasn’t what you’d hoped it’d be?” Penny says.

“Did you read it?” Gordon asks.

“No,” Penny says. “Parker skimmed through it, but it felt wrong to read it before you did.”

Gordon shifts uncomfortably. “It’s awful.”

Penny doesn’t seem surprised. She moves to take his hand, and squeezes it once. “I expected it would be.”

“He’s dead,” Gordon says. “They covered it up, but he’s actually dead.”

Penny doesn’t say anything, just holds his hand. Gordon tries to figure out what he wants to say next. He hates that his feelings are all tangled up about this. He’s angry, but there’s also grief, and Gordon’s ashamed to admit a little bit of relief, just to know what had happened. And still terror, as he tries not to imagine what could be happening to Alan.

He closes his eyes. “I think the lab took Alan.”

Penny stills next to him. “And what makes you think that?”

“They’ve been watching us,” Gordon says. “This whole time, they’ve been watching us, to see if any of us start to show these... _abilities_. That’s part of what they were doing, using kids who could do things.”

“And you think if they suspected Alan had those abilities, they would have taken him?”

“I know they would,” Gordon says. There’s a sharp pain in the hand that isn’t holding Penny’s, and he realizes that he’s been clenching it into a fist, his fingernails leaving marks on his palm. One’s broken through the skin, and he stares at it.

“Well, then,” Penny says. “We’ll just have to get him back.”

“And how do we plan to do that?” Gordon asks, because he really does not have a goddamn clue.

Penny smiles. “I think you’ll find Parker’s rather good at this sort of thing.”

“Of course he is.”

**Author's Note:**

> Got any questions about this AU? Hit me up on [tumblr](http://drdone.tumblr.com) and I'll try to answer them.


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